


Bad Omens 2

by CosyBlue



Series: Bad Omens [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Mutual Pining, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Sequel, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-07-23 20:51:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20014618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosyBlue/pseuds/CosyBlue
Summary: Nearly a year had passed since Crowley and Aziraphale had defeated Heaven & Hell a second time, with the help of Anathema, Newt and their daughter Agnes, as well as the "Further nice and accurate prophecies of Agnes Nutter concerning the world that is to come".Almost a year they had lived in peace now when the book suddenly finds its way back with a warning - it's Armageddon. Again.





	1. Too good to be true

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I simply can't stop writing - hope you enjoy it.

Nearly a year had passed since Hell had ordered Crowley to collect a certain (or rather uncertain) weapon from Paris, deliberately pairing up with Heaven to give the destruction of the celestial traitors another try – failing again, of course. Now even more settled in their choice of lifestyle, Aziraphale and Crowley picked up where they had left off, just a slight bit more tenderly than before. Aziraphale’s confirmation to stay with him made Crowley feel a lot more secure. After all, a demon could never really trust an angel to really wanting to put up with him ‘till the end for real. The thought had been ridiculous from the beginning. But this was a very special angel.

Nearly a year it had been now and time seemed to pass slower than before. That was mainly because Crowley stopped taking daylong naps and Aziraphale’s manic phases of devouring books were reduced to an absolute minimum. In fact, they spent more time together than ever before. However, after nearly a year full of lunch and picnic in the whole of England and some outliers like Paris or Vienna, after seemingly never-ending musical and flea markets (with Crowley always ranting about how silly everything was but liking it nevertheless), the two of them got quite bored.

It was time for something new, Crowley decided.

“How about a road trip?”  
“What did you say, dear?”

Aziraphale hadn’t been paying attention to the demon lingering on his couch in the back room of his shop, as so often. The demon’s presence in the book store felt so natural that sometimes he forgot Crowley was there.

“I said, how about a road trip?”

Aziraphale didn’t answer right away. It was always harder for him to deal with new things than for his counterpart. But the demon was right. It was time for a change of scenery.

Sipping her tea Anathema watched her now 6-year old daughter Agnes with a furrowed brow. Everything had been normal for almost a year after they had returned from Paris. Little Agnes did what all small kids her age did. She went to the kindergarten, played with other children, liked to steal chocolate from the kitchen table and threw a tantrum now and then. Her favourite children’s book was “The Jungle Book” and that was quite perfectly normal. The “Further nice and accurate prophecies of Agnes Nutter concerning the world that is to come” was well secured in the furthest corner of the bedroom closet, right at the top of the shelf. It had been nearly a year and day after day, she did let her guard down further.  
Until today, when Agnes was playing peacefully in the living room and Anathema went to the kitchen to get herself a cup of tea, and when she returned it wasn’t “The Jungle Book” in the hands of her little daughter anymore – it was the book of prophecies from her ancestor. 

“Honey, what are you doing with this book?”  
“Oh I just went to the bedroom, because I forgot Mr. Rabbit there – “ Mr. Rabbit was her beloved rabbit stuffed toy – “and then the book fell from the closet.” 

Right. The safely hidden book crawled over boxes, clothes and anything else stuffed in the cupboard and threw itself from the very top to the floor at Agnes’s feet. _Damned book!_

Agnes kept turning the pages and Anathema watched her silently, ruminating over whether she should try to remove the book again or if it would just be a waste of time anyway.

"You’re ready, angel?”

Crowley was waiting, leaning casually against his Bentley, looking like a student trying to impress his prom date.

“One second!” Aziraphale yelled from inside. Crowley feared the worst.  
“Are you taking half of the bookshop with you or what are you doing?”

The angel’s face appeared in the doorway for a second, looking at him dismissively.

“There are certain things you have to tend to when running a book shop, my dear, before leaving for a longer period of time.”

The demon rolled his eyes. His angel had become such a square. About time they left for an adventure. After another five minutes, Aziraphale appeared again, with two suitcases and a lunch box. He was still wearing his orange Hawaiian shirt and Crowley was still making fun of him for it. But not today. Today, Crowley was in a way too good mood for any of that.

“Where are we going exactly?” the angel asked after Crowley put his things in the luggage compartment. But the demon just grinned. A very complacent grin. “Don’t worry, you’ll like it.”  
Surprises weren’t exactly what Aziraphale liked, but Crowley seemed to be so happy, he didn’t have the heart to ruin it. _A surprise it is then,_ he thought to himself, watching the demon adjusting in the Bentley and being very pleased to see this totally happy-go-lucky version of his favourite creature of hell.

Anathema was standing at the table, again, sipping tea and watching Agnes. This time the only difference was that next to her, Newt did the same. Well, he was sipping cocoa, but anyway he monitored Agnes with the same look of deep concern on his face. 

“She can’t even read yet and there are no pictures in this book. What is she even doing with it the whole day?”  
“I don’t know…,” Anathema sighed. Agnes and the book had become inseparable. Mr. Rabbit was lying sadly in the corner of her room, while Agnes took the book with her wherever she went. It had been quite challenging to explain this in kindergarten.

“Maybe we should ask her?”  
“Ask her what?”  
“I don’t know… what the book is telling her?”  
Newt looked at her as if now it eventually happened and she had lost her mind.  
“Are you _implying_ this book is talking to our daughter?”  
The witch sighed. There was still so much her husband couldn’t grasp. On a sudden impulse, she went to her daughter and kneeled down to her.  
“Honey… is there something in this book you perhaps want to show me?”  
In a “I thought you’d never ask”-manner, Agnes flipped the pages over-confidently and stopped at a certain page, like she knew the book by heart. She opened it and laid her finger on the third prophecy on that page.

2036  
Great danger will befalleth us all  
If yee are not ready to stand up for wat is true.  
On the day the beast of the pit burneth the holy tree  
Warn the principality for they’ll try to smite the mischievous angel  
And all hope will fade away with him.

_Newt isn’t going to like this…_

Crowley didn’t torture his angel for long. They headed for Belgium, Bruges to be more precise. For the whole journey, Crowley elaborately raved about how his angel would love everything there. Belgium had chocolate. It had waffles. It had beer with fancy tastes. Bruges was a beautiful medieval city and as Ralph Fiennes put it so eloquently in the Hollywood blockbuster _In Bruges_ : "How’s a fairytale town not somebody’s fucking thing? How can all those canals and bridges and cobbled streets and those churches, all those beautiful fucking fairytale stuff, how can that not be somebody’s fucking thing?"*

And surely there would also be ducks somewhere. Aziraphale just loved how excited the demon was about the trip. Usually they just did what the angel had in mind and Crowley pretended he didn’t like it the whole time.

It had become late when the celestial pair of demon and angel reached the surroundings of Bruges and they started looking for a motel. Money had never been a problem for both of them, but they also couldn’t live like millionaires. They had to look after their expenses. Also, both of them tried not to miracle around too much - they didn't have to unnecessarily draw attention to themselves.  
They halted at a cosy little Bed & Breakfast that literally screamed: “made for Aziraphale”. It was like taken straight out from a fairy tale, and the angel kept wondering if his best friend might fear his own choices wouldn’t be seen as appropriate by the angel. He had to ask him at a suitable moment. They went inside to check-in, in the very kitschy reception, where a very beautiful lady with long dark hair and pale blue eyes greeted them.

“A very warm welcome to our modest guest house! How long do you want to stay?”  
“One night,” Crowley answered, casually leaning on the desk like he was too cool for this world. In the kitschiest room he’d ever been in.

“Alright, it would be double room 202 for you with a very romantic view of the countryside from the balcony and – eh…” She stopped, recognising the blank stare she got from both of them. Oh gosh. She had assumed something wrong.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you don’t want a double room?”

There it was again. They had been mistaken for a couple. AGAIN.  
Since none of them answered or even reacted in any way, the receptionist blushed and moved on.

“Oh, I see there are no single rooms left, I’m sorry. It’s just the double room. Perhaps we could arrange a folding bed.”  
“Oh, we wouldn't want to put you to any trouble,” Aziraphale stopped her.  
“It’s ok. We’ll take the double room.”  
His side glance to Crowley said anything between “we don’t need to sleep anyway so who cares though” and “do we care if it’s just one bed I mean I don’t care if you don’t care but do you?”  
So the receptionist handed them over their key, still slightly embarrassed, and they went upstairs.

It was always an odd feeling when they were mistaken for a couple. A particular sentence in the angel’s voice shoved itself back in Crowley’s mind every time: What do you think _we_ are?  
Well, they didn’t care for human labels, so it actually didn’t held any importance. True friendship was nothing less than platonic love after all. It didn’t matter if he _liked_ or _loved_ his angelic best friend. The feelings had the same root eventually and he was damned for it anyway.  
But still… it felt awkward every time and both of them acted weirdly afterwards.  
Crowley had felt the urge to hug Aziraphale at least a hundred times since then, but never gave in and so it didn’t happen again. He had no clue what thoughts were in the angel’s mind about it. One would think such a being of love like this sugary angel would run around hugging anything and everyone. On the other hand, Crowley had experienced the coldness of Heaven at first hand. In this hostile environment Aziraphale might have developed some issues with body contact himself… _Stop ruminating, dumb demon!_ he scolded himself. They had reached room 202 and Aziraphale started to make himself comfortable, deliberately avoiding the bed.  
_Oh my…_ Crowley thought, _We’ll need something soothing here._ With that in mind, he left and came back with several bottles of beer with all kinds of fancy tastes. “Cherry,” he told his angel, smiling cheekily.  
They sat down at the balcony, starting to drink the very delicious beer (Crowley would never admit, that he’d prefer this sweet fruity beer to strong whiskey, while Aziraphale would rather die than announce, that he would have favour an Irish Whiskey right now). And soon they were at ease again, talking and talking while the sun set down and the stars arrived.

Anathema and Newt sat at the kitchen table, staring at the note card the witch had made, with the prophecy in question written on it. A third person had joined them, a person who had grown into an adult since we last heard of him. He still had brown, slightly curled hair, but glasses now covered his blue eyes. Not because he really needed them, he just liked other people to think of him as intellectual.

“I’m sorry, I also don’t know what it could possibly mean,” Adam apologised.  
He hadn’t come deliberately to Jasmine Cottage. It was pure coincidence. He was back in town for a few days and just felt in the mood to visit.  
“It’s ok, we didn’t want to bother you with it. It’s just… we’re a bit nervous about it.”  
Adam understood better than they would have thought. He too loved Agnes with all of his super-natural heart.  
“I’m really sorry that I’m not more of help,” he started again when a loud bang from the garden interrupted them. Alarmed, the three of them stormed outside. As they passed the door Dog met them halfway, looking guiltily innocent. Anathema was the first to glance the results of Dog’s “I’ve done nothing”-incident. “Fire!” It was only a small flame. Dog must have jumped on the table and knocked over the burning lantern, which fell on the plants. Newt ran for water while Adam stood deadly still. He had recognised the plants instantly. Frankincense. _On the day the beast of the pit burns the holy tree._  
Anathema and Newt were still hovering over the burnt plants and the broken glass when Adam said in an unearthly voice: “You have to call the angel.”

Crowley woke up early in the morning in the chair on the balcony where they had spent the night. They had drunk beer, played Double Solitaire (the most elegant game for two players, some people said) and any time between the third and the fourth beer he must have dozed off. Napping had become such a habit to him. The book on the table told him that Aziraphale probably had started reading when he fell asleep. From the absence of the angel he guessed it wasn’t that early in the morning anymore. He concentrated a bit and started hearing his friend’s voice from inside.

“What does it say exactly?”  
Pause.  
“I understand. No, no, I too think it would be for the best if we were coming to you. After all, there might be some clues in the book.”

Crowley didn’t like what he heard. Soundlessly he rose and went inside. Aziraphale had just hung up (obviously he had picked up the call on Crowley’s phone, seeing it being Anathema who called). Since it had been quite late yesterday, the witch hadn’t wanted to disturb him or rather them but did call right away early in the morning.

“Oh, Crowley, you’re awake.”

The demon had no patience for this right now. He wanted facts.

“What was that call about? On my phone?”  
“Oh, it was just Anathema. That’s why I picked up. You’re… you’re not angry with me for answering, right?”

 _Depends on what you tell me now,_ Crowley thought, knowing that his angel wasn’t at fault at all, but still, he was pondering.

“I don’t care if you answer my phone as long as don’t tell anyone calling to get a wiggle on. What did she want though?”

Aziraphale knew, Crowley wouldn’t like this. He himself hadn’t liked it at all either.

“Apparently a new prophecy from Agnes Nutter’s second book came true and as it seems, the world seems to be at stake again. And Agnes specifically told her to warn me.”

As expected, the eyes of the demon darkened. Since he didn’t wear his sunglasses yet, it was all too obvious to see.

“We should drive back to London - or to be more precise to Tadfield – to find out if there really is an imminent danger waiting for us.”

Still, Crowley said no word. Silently he put his sunglasses on and turned.

“Crowley...”

He knew the demon better than anyone else. He knew that he was not ok right now. But the angel’s voice worked like magic on him. Crowley sighed and turned back again, sinking down on the untouched bed. 

“I’ve had such a great plan for today.”

The demon was heartbreakingly upset about this and Aziraphale experienced the strong need to make him feel better. He sat down beside him and almost unconsciously took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

“We can come back another day. We have all the time in the world.”

Flashes of heat waved over Crowley. His demonic heart might as well explode.

“Hopefully the time of the world isn’t up yet,” he replied rather coldly, playing it damn cool and letting go of Aziraphale’s hand, not recognising the disappointment on the angel’s face. 

“Not even a whole year without that shit, it’s fucking unbelievable,” he muttered, while he walked away.

 _This is going to be a fun trip back… NOT,_ Aziraphale feared. He should be right with this concern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Source: https://www.timeout.com/bruges/things-to-do/best-things-to-do-in-bruges


	2. Losing you

Around midday, the supernatural duo arrived in Lower Tadfield. Crowley had been silent for at least three hours straight, while Queen was blasting from the car radio and Aziraphale stared at the road with dull eyes, wondering if when they would reach Jasmine Cottage, would there be exact as many people still alive as before…  
To his delightful surprise, they arrived at their destination without any harm done to people, animals, trees, street signs or the car itself.  
Still grumpily but not unfriendly, Crowley followed Aziraphale to the door, where they were greeted with a mix of joy and worry. It didn’t help to improve Crowley’s mood when the demon discovered Adam inside, the misplaced antichrist.

“You again?” 

So much for not being unfriendly.

“Pull yourself together, Crowley,” Aziraphale muttered at him.  
“Hello Adam, what a pleasure to meet you again.”

Crowley looked at his friend like he thought he’d lost it and Adam smiled.

“You don’t have to worry about me. I don’t want to end the earth again.”

Crowley muttered something incomprehensible but seemed relieved. Without a further word, he sat down at the table in the kitchen. When all of them were settled, stirring their cups of tea, cocoa, and coffee, Anathema read the prophecy aloud for them.

“Great danger will befalleth us all  
If yee are not ready to stand up for wat is true.  
On the day the beast of the pit burneth the holy tree  
Warn the principality for they’ll try to smite the mischievous angel  
And all hope will fade away with him.”

Crowley almost threw his deep-black coffee from the table.

“You can’t be serious! Not again. I’m not having it. You’ve misread it.”

As much as Anathema wanted to tell him something different – it was written.

“I’m sorry, there is no doubt. This is what is written in the book.”  
“Well, I’m not having it.”  
“Crowley, you-“ Aziraphale tried to interrupt, without success.  
“No, I’m not having it. They can’t threaten you again, already again! It isn’t fair!”

The angel looked puzzled.

“But I don’t think I’m meant here. I’m only the principality, maybe I have to save another angel. I’m not mischievous.”  
“Oh come on! You’re hanging around with a demon, protecting a demon, saving the life of a demon – how much more mischievous do you want to get?”

Several suggestions were on tip of tongues but weren’t spoken. Therefore, Crowley stayed completely clueless.

“Your life is threatened by that prophecy and I’m not having any of it,” the demon hissed and his tongue appeared to have changed to a snake’s, which meant - as Aziraphale knew quite well - that he was utterly stressed. Crowley gestured with his hand like he was going to throw something and left the room. Aziraphale nodded apologetically to the others and ran after him.

Crowley didn’t need to look up to know who was following him. He sat on the couch of the living room, hands folded, staring at the floor. Without acknowledging Aziraphale’s arrival, he just started to speak.

“It’s always you. They always threaten you and not me. Because you have something to lose.”  
It was clear that he referred to him being an angel. Aziraphale was still carrying the risk of falling on his shoulders, while Crowley’s only hope left was not losing the one person who meant the world to him. To threaten Aziraphale was killing two birds with one stone.  
“Don’t be silly, you’re just as precious. And I thought you liked being a demon? All the wicked plans, frivolous temptations, nasty inconveniences?”

Crowley snorted. 

“Oh, please. My evil deeds are downright ridiculous. I’m a pathetic excuse for a demon.”

A genuine smile appeared on Aziraphale’s face.

“In that case, you found your perfect match, ‘cause I am, for the record, a pathetic excuse for an angel.”

Crowley looked irritated, but after a moment, he laughed. Heartwarmingly, relieved. He felt ok again – at least for now. _I’m so lost without you, angel._

They went back to the kitchen where Crowley acted like nothing ever happened. Together they combed the book for more hints, far into the night. Startled, Anathema realised how late it had become. 

“Oh my, it’s gotten quite late! And you already had a really long drive today. Do you want to stay for the night?”

Driving really wasn’t that much of an effort for Crowley and he just wanted to tell them in a really smug way, when the angel beated him by one second.

“That is really nice from you. I think we’ll accept your kind offer.”

 _What?_ The demon glanced at his counterpart, with eyes saying _You do remember that we actually don’t need to sleep?_  
Aziraphale didn’t bother, didn’t even as much as side glanced at him. That was weird. Maybe he was in trouble.

Half an hour later, they were both standing in the Device’s guest room. There was a pull-out couch with blankets and pillows prepared, and a folding bed stored at the side – Anathema had no idea, how these two preferred to spend their nights – and a table with a reading lamp at the window. The book was lying on the table since Aziraphale mentioned he might work further on it later. Also, a bottle of whiskey and two glasses had appeared, but the angel speculated that this was the work of a certain demon. A certain demon who really was awfully uncomfortable at the moment. Desperately he thought about something cool to say, a joke, witty remark, anything. Instead, the words coming out of his mouth were: “Angel, what is that?” And waving around his hands helplessly. So far away from cool.  
Aziraphale’s eyes were soft. Soft and sad, actually.

“Crowley, I can feel your pain. I know, that you aren’t alright.” 

And before the demon could protest, Aziraphale touched his shoulder and with a miraculous blink, they magically disappeared, dancing on atoms, and appeared again on the couch. The angel was lying straight, Crowley tucked in under his arm.  
The demon was in shock-induced paralysis.

“I want to soothe you,” Aziraphale explained. Angels inhabit a soothing presence by default. Suddenly remembering the origin of his best friend, he was about to back away in a slight panic, saying: “Does it even work with demons this way? Does an angel’s presence soothe you?”  
It seemed ridiculous. What had he been thinking? But Crowley didn’t let go of him.  
“Yours does,” he muttered, holding tight to the angel, like saying _Don’t you dare to go away now_.

To anyone outside it might appear like Crowley was the strong one in their relationship. He protected his angel, saved him from all possible circumstances, pushed the buttons, did the dirty work.  
But in reality, it was the opposite – it was the angel being strong. He was determined. Stood to his decisions, even if it was hard to do so. Simply acted when he thought it was right. Saved the world and him for real, not from petty little executioners but from proper danger. He was solid as a rock. He was Crowley’s rock. And he didn’t even know it.

About 80 miles away, roughly at the same time, six people disguised as monks, faces hidden beneath their cowls, met in the catacombs of West Norwood Cemetery, London. However, “people” was not the right expression. Three angels and three demons gathered for a secret meeting in this gloomy place. The West Norwood Cemetery was a site of major historical, architectural and ecological interest. Inspired by _Cimetière du Père Lachaise_ , the famous graveyard in Paris, it was one of the “Magnificent Seven” cemeteries of London.  
However, cemeteries ticked boxes for both parties, so it seemed a suitable meeting point. Although the catacombs were built below chapels, the demons could roam freely in them. The underworld always had open arms for fallen creatures. The angels felt a bit disgusted, but what would you expect from a meeting with demons anyway?

“Is it done?” a muffled voice asked.  
“It is done,” another muffled voice replied.

And the six peo- … creatures left as suddenly as they had appeared.  
Already some time ago, selected representatives from Heaven and Hell had decided to just fuck the rules for Armageddon. To hell with, nah, to heaven with… - to whomever with hellhounds, signs and ineffable plans. They’d ignore everything that has ever been written and just summon the four horsemen by themselves. They’d just start Armageddon on their own. Couldn’t be that hard though, a bit of a nuclear war should be enough for this world to end…  
Since they weren’t the official contracting authorities, they couldn’t get the usual delivery company to take their order. Instead, they’d hired a similar, but much cheaper one. Hey, they said they’d do the same thing for half the price… why bother?  
Earlier this night, the parcels with holy and not so holy objects bound to be delivered to the four horsemen were handed over to their new service company. Within two days the items should have changed the owner. They said.

Crowley woke up light-heartedly but disappointed, when he realised, that Aziraphale had left the couch and was brooding over the book of prophecies again. Still, he hadn’t slept that well in nearly a decade. He felt the strange yearning to stand up, go to the angel, wrap his arms around him and lay his head on his. He suppressed the yearning. As he had explained, Aziraphale had wanted to soothe him. There was no proof that this had been more than a duty for him, trying to make sure his good friend doesn’t tear up completely. Crowley was already enough of an emotional burden. He didn’t like the thought and therefore put on his sunglasses immediately. 

“Found something, angel?”

Startled, Aziraphale’s head turned.

“Oh, you’re awake.” He smiled affectionately, but only one of them recognised.  
“Not really. It all is still a big blur. I dismissed the prophecies which obviously were already fulfilled and tried to make some cross-references… but I still have no idea where this is leading.”

Well, that didn’t sound promising. Crowley groaned.

“At least tell me there isn’t really another Armageddon to come.”  
Awkward silence.  
“Angel?”  
More awkward silence.  
“Aziraphale!”  
We can safely assume, that the angel hid behind the book by now. Armageddon 2.0 definitely was to come.

It was early in the morning when Joe from DeliveryNow started his tour. He had only two packages to deliver today, but they were highly important and took quite a long route. The customers had booked the exclusive premium package, which meant he was ought to be practically glued to the parcels until delivery. Relaxed, he turned to the parking spot of the London Heathrow Airport. His next stop was Pjöngjang.

Crowley lingered in his stool trying hard to look bored, while Aziraphale and Anathema pinned their notes on a flip board. They had made four categories – 

things that, already happened  
prophecies including angels, demons and beasts  
references to Armageddon  
completely fucked up things

The angel giggled so hard at the last category, that Crowley could barely handle it. So fucking cute.

Joe climbed into his rental car and left the airport, heading towards the city. He was always kinda tired after these hyper-speed flights. His destination was the current whereabouts of Carmine Zuigiber, better known to us as WAR, who was currently standing in a secretive meeting room. The red-haired sinful creature was currently making sure, that the rapprochement between South and Nord Corea would fail. Though Joe was a rather athletic man with a slim body despite his job, who didn’t look like he would avoid going on foot, he appreciated the parking spot directly in front of the building. At the door of the place, which was so top secret, that I’m not allowed to write its name or exact location here, he quickly looked right and left. When he was sure nobody was watching, he simply left the parcel at the doorway. If there would be a complaint, he would totally claim that he rang the bell as long and heavy as possible. 

“And four people shalleth ride again  
to the place where it shall all start anew  
one of them first, one of them second  
one will be lost and one on its own.”

Somehow, this prophecy was one of the most troubling, next to the one’s threatening someone’s physical integrity. It was also one of the few, that had an obvious message. As they all agreed, it had to mean that the four horsemen would ride again. After some silence, Newt asked the question of questions.

“Who summons the horsemen?”  
“Don’t know really, they outsource this kind of things nowadays,” Crowley replied, glancing at the angel to challenge his knowledge.  
“Maybe we could find out, who exactly gives the order and stop them? Preventing everything before it even starts?”  
_Who says it hasn’t started yet_ , was on the tip of Crowley’s tongue, but that wasn’t helpful. At least that was an idea, what they could do. And he hadn’t a single better one.

“Alright – so let’s say – back to London and search for the big summoner?”

All agreed. 

“Crowley, could you please use your modern electronic device to make a photograph from our notes?”  
Grinning, the demon pulled out his phone.  
“About time you get yourself a smartphone to take your own photos.”  
“Oh I outsource this kind of things nowadays,” Aziraphale replied smoothly, with that look on his face, that he always had, when he was replying smugly, being kinda proud to be such a badass angel. Crowley couldn’t help himself but giving him credit for it.  
“Well played, angel. Well played.”

The atmosphere in the meeting room was tense. Everyone in this room knew what was at stake and how the slightest affront could ruin this whole meeting. Carmine was standing at the side, joyfully playing with her press lanyard, smiling slyly. Suddenly someone knocked. That was very unusual. The air tensed even more. A shy assistant as much as caressed the door until it opened slightly.

“Ah… it seems like there has been a package delivery for Ms. Zuigiber.”

All eyes were on Carmine. This was a top-secret meeting, no one even knew what the hell this journalist was doing here. It was so secret, absolutely nobody at all was allowed to know. Even the top-level participants had fake entries in their calendars for this meeting. Time and location had changed at least three times in the last 24 hours. So how on earth could there be a parcel delivered to a journalist?

The ride back home was much more comfortable than their last one. Aziraphale feared for his life only a tiny bit. 

“It’s good to see you in a better mood.”  
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, I’m still pissed.”

Ouch. The angel looked away, sadly. Crowley sighed. He didn’t mean to be so rude.

“I’m sorry. I do feel better. Thank you for watching over me.”

In a flash of sentiments, Aziraphale grabbed the demon’s hand and squeezed it. If he’d asked Crowley, it as well could have stayed there.

WAR was pissed. That had been embarrassing. She hadn’t expected that at all. Angrily, she opened the parcel. Inside there was a dagger – obviously, one side had been immersed in holy water, the other one forged with hellfire. A note was in it too. With just one word on it.  
“Already again?” She hadn’t sensed anything. Something was very peculiar here. Nonetheless, she got on her motorbike and started her long journey.


	3. Going overboard

“I do remember the delivery man who collected my sword, though. I’m reasonably certain, that I’d recognise the trademark if I’d see it again.”  
Aziraphale and Crowley were sitting in a tiny Café to ease the angel’s desire for "something to nibble” as Crowley would put it.  
The demon thought about the words of his partner in crime for a second.  
“You mean, instead of having to find the big summoner, we could just thwart the delivery?”  
“Exactly.”  
That didn’t sound like a bad idea. Crowley pulled out his smartphone. Same as with his laptop, he owned an iPhone on which he had forced Android software. The setup alone had led to a significant number of app store crashes.  
“Have a look.”  
Aziraphale took the phone like it was scorching and he’d drop it at any given minute. It seemed to be a miracle, that he managed to operate it.  
He stared at the logos with a furrowed brow.  
“It isn’t there.”  
“Give me a second.”  
Crowley had just googled “delivery company London.” With practised hands, he added another word in a millisecond – “international delivery company London.”  
“Ah yes, there it is. I’m completely sure. As sure as eggs is eggs.”  
Crowley decided to ignore the last part.  
“Alright. Let’s go there.”

Dr. Raven Sable, better known to us as FAMINE, was sitting in a meeting room in one of the highest buildings in Sydney, Australia. The glass façade presented them with an incredible view. In his dark suit, Raven Sable looked as handsome as usual – and not a day older as when we met him the last time, about nine years ago.  
At the moment, he was building up a franchise of CHOW in Sydney, the first one in Australia. Sitting across from him was a tough business lady with short dark hair, dark suit, and sharp heels, negotiating on a level worthy a deadly sin. They had reached a critical point in their contract when suddenly a knock at the door interrupted them. A very frightened assistant put his head inside.  
“Eh… it seems like someone left a parcel at the neighbouring office. It’s addressed to Dr. Sable.”  
The lady threw her opponent a sharp look. This was a secret meeting. No one was meant to know she was meeting up with Sable. Still, there was a parcel for him delivered here. “What kind of dirty tricks are you playing, Mr. Sable?” _Fucking delivery companies_ , he thought, baring his teeth. That would go down like a lead balloon.

Our favourite pair of angel and demon was standing in front of a particular building, the office of THE International Delivery Company. They were ready to rumble.

“Let me do the talking.”  
Aziraphale looked bewildered.  
“Why are you always implying I couldn’t do that properly?”  
“Because you can’t. You always start way too early, get bogged down in details and end up somewhere completely different from where you were heading in the first place. Don’t get me wrong, it’s lovely watching you,” he added, trying to ease the angel’s frown, “but it’s far away from expedient.”  
Aziraphale was not amused.  
“You’ll just watch me, as the kids say. I’ll do the talking and it will work out extraordinarily fine.”

FAMINE left the building furiously. In his entire existence, he hadn’t felt that humiliated. This had better be important! He opened the package to find a metal Libra in it. One side had been immersed in holy water, the other one forged in hellfire. A note was in it too, with only one word on it.  
“Again?” Sable mumbled, irritated. But he wouldn’t complain. The last Armageddon had been a bit of a cock-up. Without wasting time, he got on his motorbike and left the place of his shame as fast as possible. 

The receptionist of THE International Delivery Company was playing Minesweeper on the computer when she was interrupted by two oddly dressed gentlemen. One was wearing a brown suit (Aziraphale had dressed up once again, as they wanted to appear as businesspersons), the other one was all in black and wearing something looking like a shoelace around his neck. The latter leaned on the desk like he had no spine at all, while the other one straightened his bow tie and started talking.

“Jolly good day, dear lady, we plan to set up a deal with your company on a very important matter. You see, Mr. C and I went on an extraordinarily long journey to get here and –“  
“No meeting without appointment.”  
“Oh, this must certainly be a misunderstanding. Our visit will be deeply appreciated, for I –“  
“No meeting without appointment.”  
“You-“  
“No meeting without appointment.”  
“No, but-“  
“No meeting-“  
Crowley sighed and snapped his fingers. Everything froze.  
“Sorry angel, couldn’t watch it any longer. And when exactly did I agree to ‘Mr. C’?”  
The demon was already behind the desk, hacking into the company computer.  
“I thought Crowley would be too suspicious. She was quite unfriendly,” Aziraphale muttered dismissively. Since he was right with that, the demon added some inconveniences to her schedule. Wouldn’t hurt to do some evil now and then. Crowley went back in front of the desk and flicked again.  
“-without appointment.”  
“You should have a look again at that calendar of yours. I’m certain Mr. Fell has made an appointment.”  
She wanted to snap back a nasty answer when all of a sudden an appointment popped up at the monitor. Speechless, she looked up.  
“Yeah, we’re famous. No need to fluster. Just give us our visitor passes, please.”

In less than a minute, they had passed the entry. Crowley was feeling like a savage hero once again, while Aziraphale eyed him with a mix of being impressed and annoyed.  
“Next time you’ll get it right, angel,” the demon grinned with a wink.

It was shortly after midday in Lower Tadfield. Newt had already left for work and Adam was theoretically at his parent’s home, but practically located in Jasmine Cottage. Or to be precise outside of Jasmin Cottage, in the garden with Anathema and Agnes.  
The elder and the younger adult looked both very concerned.  
Agnes had started to play hopscotch, a children’s game where one had to draw a line of numbered squares on the floor and toss an object into them, that they had to pick up again while jumping the line. In some places and some languages, this play was also called heaven and hell.  
It wasn’t that unusual to sing something while playing it, especially while playing alone. It also wasn’t unusual for children to invent their own songs. It was the lyrics, that were quite unusual. 

“1, 2, 3  
A war it’s going to be.  
4, 5, 6  
Let’s get the haunted witch.  
7, 8, 9  
At the end it will be fine.”

“Well,” Adam tried to lift the spirits, “at least she’s saying, in the end, all will be fine.”

“And what have you planned for now?”  
Crowley was scampering through the corridors with Aziraphale in tow.  
“I’m looking for someone.”  
“For whom?”  
The demon could sense who would be most prone to bribing. A helpful quality at times. He was looking for that person.  
“I’m looking for someone my type,” he teased instead, for which he only received rolling eyes.  
“Are you demons working everywhere?”  
Obviously, the teasing hadn’t worked out. Crowley would have sighed, hadn’t he spotted the right, very human person this instant. His target person was just getting some refreshments from the snack machine. He shushed the angel and casually sauntered towards the red-haired lady in tight jeans and a black blouse, unbottened just to the right spot to sparkle curiosity.  
“That’s a nice snack you have there.”  
The woman looked up and down at Crowley leaning against the snack machine. Profoundly and approvingly.  
“Want to share, good-looking?”  
“I’d rather you share some information with me.”  
The woman grinned cheekily.  
“What kind of information is a handsome guy like you searching in a place like – oh.”  
Aziraphale had appeared behind them, staring fiercely.  
“We have ways of making people talk.”  
Surprised, Crowley looked at him. _Oy, where is that coming from?_  
“Bit too much, bit too soon, angel.”  
“No need to worry. I’m not that easily intimidated, Mr. Crowley.”  
The next surprise. Wasn’t he supposed to be the Master of this game?  
“You know her?” Aziraphale asked unbelievingly.  
“No! I haven’t seen that person before in my life!”  
That was just too funny. These two idiots were exactly like they had been described.  
“I would be damned if I wouldn’t recognise the famous Anthony J Crowley when I meet him.”  
Her eyes flirted with him eagerly, and so eager he was to dismiss her.  
“I’m in no mood for games, sister. What can you tell me about a delivery order from hell and/or heaven?”  
“Nothing in here.”  
“You’re sure?”  
“Sure as hell.”  
Crowley snorted. His instincts had let him down. He just wanted to signal his angel to leave, when the lady sighed very prominently.  
“But rumour has it there has been an order placed somewhere else. Gosh, I’ve heard it somewhere, but it’s so hard to remember.”  
Before Aziraphale could go wild again, Crowley pulled out some money from his jacket. He’d come to bribe, bribing it would be.  
“Is that enough to aid your memory?”  
She grinned.  
“Oh, it’s just the green. It’s so helpful. You know, rumour has it DeliveryNow has accepted an offer from some… unearthly client.”  
Now that was something to work with.  
“Anything else?”  
“I’m afraid that’s all I know. Except you want to hear some of my dirty stories as well.”  
“Not interested.”  
She winked and Crowley immediately pulled his angel by the sleeve and left with him – first and foremost so no one could tell he was blushing.  
As soon as the two had left, the ginger lady pulled out her phone.  
“Hello? Yes, I have some information to sell. About these two you wanted us to… look out for.”  
Playing both was fun, she thought, while counting Crowley’s money. After all, nobody had explicitly said she couldn’t tell them anything.

“Ah, this is life.” Joe from DeliveryNow let himself down on his extra-large bed in his premium suite in the city centre of Sydney. He just loved expenses. They would appear on the invoice of his customers as hidden extra costs, covered by complex conditions written very small in the contract. Two parcels were still in his belongings, bound to be delivered tomorrow. Since he’d been so fast with the first two, he could enjoy some leisure time in Sydney now. Ah, he just loved his job. 

“My respect, Aziraphale, that was kind of intimidating,” Crowley praised, while already hacking into the email system of DeliveryNow from his smartphone to get them an appointment for tomorrow.  
“A bit over the top for a start, but a promising base.”  
The angel didn’t know if he should be flattered or pissed.  
“Well, thanks. Maybe I’m the mischievous angel after all.”  
He seemed clearly troubled. Crowley chuckled.  
“You’ve never seen yourself glare at your customers, obviously. But in comparison to Gabriel and the other fucking archangels, you’re the holiest shit here on earth.”  
The expression wasn’t what Aziraphale would have picked, but it was good enough to make him feel better. Crowley finished hacking and put his phone back in a smug way.  
“Alright, tomorrow at 10 am we are scheduled at DeliveryNow.”  
“And what do we do now?”  
Crowley shrugged.  
“Dunno, go for dinner?”  
Aziraphale looked at him dismissively.  
“What do we do about the oncoming apocalypse until tomorrow, 10 am?”  
Oh, that went on Crowley’s nerves. They had done so much already for just one day.  
“After-work drink?” he tried again.  
“Aren’t we supposed to do something?”  
“Tss, what does it mean anyway? We weren’t much of help the last time though. Clearly, it’s not important what we do now, it’s irrelevant. Ineffable if you like. I could as well bloody kiss you, it wouldn’t matter.”  
It took Crowley a few seconds to realise what he just said.  
Aziraphale was puzzled. Just for a heartbeat. Then he made a confident step forward, cupped the head of the demon in his hands, snatched him over and snogged him for dear life.  
No, wait. That happened only in his head. In reality, he still stood at the same place, frozen.  
_Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck._


	4. A slight touch

_What the fuck did I just say?_  
Crowley sighed into the full glass of red wine before him. He'd just stumbled into the nearest bar in panic. Aziraphale was sitting at the couch in the back of the bar and Crowley was supposed to bring them a bottle of wine. But the demon felt like he needed to get down an extra glass before he could face his angel again. _Maybe he didn't even notice?_  
He tried to remember - Heaven was meant to be full of love, but instead, it was sterile and cold and if anyone accidentally touched anybody else they would go "ew." In contrary, in Hell, they didn't even grasp the concept of personal space.  
It had to be a fucking angel, hadn't it?

Anathema came back from Agnes's bedroom after she had tucked in her little girl who had been already tired from playing hopscotch and singing the whole afternoon. She was startled when she discovered Adam still sitting in the kitchen. It had taken her a while to make Agnes ready for bed. She had thought he would have left in the meantime.

"I don't want to kick you out - but don't you want to go home eventually?"

Slowly, Adam shook his head. He couldn't describe it, but he really felt like he had to stay here. Anathema shrugged. People who dealt with self-conscious books weren't easily irritated.

"You can stay here as long as you want, just make sure, your parents know where you are," she said, fully ignoring the fact that he had grown into an adult since then. Newt would simply have to deal with it.

"I'd think you should sober up before driving."  
"Ah, I'm perfectly able to drive."

It had been a long time since they had gotten drunk in a bar. They preferred being at their own places, like the old men they were.

"Crowley, you're quite thoroughly drunk. You could get us killed."

Aziraphale was too drunk himself to think about adding 'well, discorporated', and wasn't that also dangerous after they've thrown hands with Heaven and Hell anyway?  
Crowley looked at him with the most dead serious face he could manage.

"I'd never risk getting you hurt, angel!"  
"Then sober up, will you? You wily ol' serpent."

Grimacing, the demon did as his counterpart told him. Aziraphale sobered up as well.

"Alright, no fun times then. Get in the car, angel."

Both of them remembered why it had been easier to get drunk. Both of them ignored it.

When they reached the bookshop, an awkward silence filled the car.

"Well... you'll pick me up tomorrow for our appointment?"  
"Of course. Why would you ask?"  
The angel frowned.  
"Just... making conversation. See you tomorrow then, my de-ah, demon."  
He'd wanted to say 'dear' as he used to but somehow couldn't manage it. "Toodeloo!" he added while climbing out of the Bentley. Crowley raised an eyebrow.  
"Toodeloo? Are you- sigh, alright, angel. See you tomorrow."

 _I've fucked it up._ Crowley thought, swirling his glass of scotch in his hand. It was just a phrase, the angel always used to mix up phrases. He'd once said 'lick butt' for fuck's sake. Nobody had lost their mind over that. Why was everything so weird all of a sudden? Maybe his angel was even more sensitive than he'd imagined. He might have sensed something. "Pull yourself together, stupid demon."  
Meanwhile, Aziraphale was sitting on his favourite chair, book on his lap, but not reading. _Blimey, why does it have to be a demon...._

Early next morning. Joe yawned extensively. His next trip would be laborious. Apparently, he had to drive a boat at some part to get there. He hated the sea. What wouldn't we do for the customer, eh?

"No! I don't want to go!" Agnes cried, stamped her little feet and ran back to her room.

"I give up," Anathema exclaimed. If she refused to go to the kindergarten that rigorously it made no sense to try further.

"It's probably for the best. We'd only get disturbing phone calls anyway when she continues to sing her little song," Newton replied. His wife rubbed her temples.

"It's ok, I'll help you with her."

Both were startled. They hadn't heard Adam walk in.

"Well, thanks. You don't need to, but you'd be welcome."

Adam wouldn't have accepted a no anyway. He had to be here. Today. He felt it deep down inside.

The office building from DeliveryNow looked like a ramshackle hut in comparison to THE International Delivery company. Aziraphale was slightly disgusted.

"This company must have been Hell's pick. I can't imagine Heaven approving of such a locality."  
"Yeah well, demons have bad taste," Crowley said, fully implying 100% every meaning of it. The angel didn't react to it at all.  
"I'll gladly let you do the talking this time. I don't even want to imagine which kind of people are working in there."  
_Drama queen_ , Crowley thought, being a bit pissed.  
"My kind, Aziraphale."

With a look of shock, the angel turned.  
"I hadn't meant you, Crowley. You're not like them, not the slightest!"  
"Don't make a fuss about it, just get going."  
This wasn't going to be less awkward anyway.

The Great Pacific Garbage Patch was the largest accumulation of ocean plastic in the world and was located between Hawaii and California. It was estimated that 1.15 to 2.41 million tonnes of plastic were entering the ocean each year from rivers. More than half of this plastic was less dense than the water, meaning that it would not sink, but stay at the surface instead. It had created a kind of island, one of five.*

POLLUTION had built up its residence here since the little armageddon that couldn't. At the moment, POLLUTION floated through the plastic in perfect relaxation. It was like being high. You couldn't tell if it's been a day, a month, or even a year. In fact, it had been nine years. POLLUTION hadn't much work to do nowadays - the humans found new ways to pollute the earth every day. Some voices tried to stop it, but they'd never win over the politicians and the big companies.  
So POLLUTION could as well enjoy the time on earth and doze in the big plastic garbage patch.

Same as THE International Delivery Company, DeliveryNow also disposed of a receptionist, but a real shitty one. He wasn't really paying attention to them until they were basically waving their hands in front of his eyes.

"Oh... sorry."

He pulled the headphone from his ear from which emitted music, that Aziraphale would have called bebop.

"What do you want?"

Aziraphale was on the brink to teach him some respect, but Crowley shushed him.

"I believe we have an appointment. Mr. C and Mr.Fell."

 _Mr.C?_ the angel mouthed in astonishment. Hadn't he complained about it? Crowley shushed him again.

"Ah yes, I see. Room 'New York', first floor."

He casually waved in direction of the elevator and put in his earphones again.

"I'm going to write a really bad review on Goggle about this company," Aziraphale hissed and to their fortune, the receptionist didn't hear him. Crowley's sigh was directed straight to God herself. _What on earth are your ridiculous plans for me?_ God chuckled. This was her favourite soap opera for 6.000 years straight.

After a perfectly fine passage, Joe reached the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. How could anyone possibly pass his time in such a dump? Disgusted, he just threw the parcel overboard. Should be near enough.  
POLLUTION didn't even notice.

Crowley and Aziraphale found the meeting room "New York" easily enough. The angel would have preferred to wait for their business associate, but his counterpart convinced him with his talks about the element of surprise to their advantage, so they went inside.  
The meeting room was dull. An old black & white image of New York was on one wall, a big monitor with a crack on the screen on the other. The curtains smelled from smoke and the windows hadn't seen a cloth for a long time. Aziraphale cleaned his chair with a tissue before he sar down.  
Their targeted meeting partner took his time. Crowley lingered on his stool, trying not to pay too much attention to Aziraphale cleaning the table with his tissue. To avoid an éclat, he also miracled away the chewing gum under the angel's seat, which he, fortunately, hadn't discovered yet.

"He's late," the angel remarked with displeasure.  
"He's the worst employee of the company, of course he's late."

A few minutes later, a blond manager, with a smile a dentist would fall in love with, rushed in.

"Sorry for the delay - hadn't seen this meeting in my calendar before this morning."

They shook hands - Aziraphale eyeing him thoroughly - and sat down.

"Could you jog my memory, from which company are you?"  
"A.Z. Fell and Co." the angel replied proudly and unnecessarily, as Crowley came to the point immediately.  
"We'd like to gather some information about one of your clients."  
The manager's eyes went big in surprise.  
"We would never give away customer information," he exclaimed indignantly.

Crowley pulled a bunch of money from his jacket and slammed it on the table.  
You couldn't look as fast as the bribe vanished from the table. Aziraphale was appalled.

"Well, we certainly don't give away customer information to simply _anyone_. It's something different with honored business partners as you."  
"We don't have time for small talk. An order from Heaven or Hell - has there been anything?"  
"Oh, yes of course - the big one. Let me check - ah yes, Joe has just delivered the third parcel."  
"The third?!"  
"Yes, he's currently on his way to deliver the fourth."  
The celestial duo fell apart. It was already too late.

Joe was already on his way back. Peculiar... he still hadn't got any information about his last place of delivery. He was back on his small boat, all alone on the pacific ocean. Something was odd. Really odd. He was used to his vehicles being miraculously fast and safe, basically operating by themselves. But it seemed as if all the magic had left his wheels all of a sudden. The waves pushed hard against the little nutshell. What was wrong here? If he wouldn't know better, he'd say they tried to deliberately drown him.

Aziraphale was lying on his bed, upstairs in his bookshop. He rarely made use of it. Actually, it was way more occupied by Crowley after boozy nights than by himself. But he felt dizzy right now.  
After their disastrous meeting at DeliveryNow, where they had learned that all they've tried had been completely useless and Armageddon was probably unavoidable, Crowley had left the angel at the bookshop and drove away again to tap the demonic sources he had still left. Although they both knew, it was almost certainly a waste of time.  
It was a troublesome time, but Aziraphale's mind was somewhere else, wondering. What would happen if he kissed a demon? Would it hurt, maybe burn? Could he fall? Could he _still_ fall? Oh my, his head was a disaster.

"What's wrong, angel?"

Startled he looked up - in the demon's face. Damned demon's face. He had been so lost in thoughts, he hadn't even noticed Crowley was back.

"Nothing! Nothing at all! Why would you think otherwise?"  
Crowley chuckled.  
"You didn't even hear me coming in and I've never seen you lying on a bed before." _Which is quite a shame actually... oh fuck, stupid demon, stop it!_

Aziraphale looked around. Right. Too obvious. He was about to stand up but Crowley wasn't having it. With a blink, he miracled himself next to the angel on the bed, his arm wrapped around him.

"Don't even think of leaving. Now it's my turn."

There wasn't really a risk - Aziraphale didn't even feel capable of standing up.

"Tell me, what you're worried about."  
_Well, for a start, about what would happen if I kissed you. But this is totally not what I'm going to tell you._  
The angel sighed.  
"Nothing specific. Just Armageddon and things."  
"And things?"  
_You really are not capable of lying, Aziraphale,_ the angel scolded himself.

He sighed again, painfully, but Crowley didn't interrogate him further. Like trying to say: _You don't have to tell me if you don't want. But just feel better_ , he tucked him in more tightly. His head brushed Aziraphale's lightly, and there was a soft feeling, lips on his forehead. As light and soft as a feather, hushed, so you couldn't say if it was a deliberate kiss or just an accidental touch. It was so tender, so not a demon tempting an angel, so much of a friend comforting, despite struggling with himself.  
Without thinking, Aziraphale's head turned slightly, moving just a bit up, and smoothly - not searching, just happening - his lips locked on Crowley's.  
Sensation filled the room, the air was glowing around them. Soft lips on lips, a snake's slim tongue tickling - then the phone rang.  
Hesitantly, they moved apart, hands still on each other. But it was no use, the phone was still ringing. Avoiding eye contact, Aziraphale stood up. Crowley watched him from under his sunglasses, not grasping a single word the angel exchanged with the caller. When he hung up, the demon's bowels protested. He half expected him to say _Crowley, that was a terrible mistake._ Feeling like falling from Heaven again, he looked up, as the angel said something completely different and unexpected.

"Adam has been kidnapped."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *https://theoceancleanup.com/great-pacific-garbage-patch/


	5. Soft

Out of nowhere, a storm was coming. Desperately, Joe tried to bring back the ship under his control. But it was pointless. His boat was way too fragile for the ocean. The next great wave knocked it over, and a violent blow on the skull left Joe unconscious. While he was drowning, DEATH appeared. In his last struggle for life, Joe’s eyes opened again.

“SOME PEOPLE REALLY CHALLENGE ME. WHY WOULD YOU TRAVEL THE OCEAN ON SUCH A NUTSHELL?”

Joe tried to reply, but all that came from his mouth were bubbles. 

“CAN’T UNDERSTAND YOU. COULDN’T YOU SPEAK MORE PROPERLY? AH, I FORGOT. YOU’RE DROWNING.”

In a last desperate attempt, Joe pointed to the parcel. Maybe, he thought, he might be spared, if he carried out the delivery at last.  
Curious, DEATH opened the package.

“THIS IS NOT HOW IT’S SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN.”

DEATH wouldn’t let himself simply be summoned by anyone, disrespecting all rules of Armageddon. However, DEATH would hit the road… or ocean… anyway. On his own terms. To have a look at who dared to summon him by some cheap second-hand delivery company.  
The parcel had been empty, apart from a note, which was carrying just one term: airbase.

With screeching tyres, the Bentley came to a halt before Jasmine Cottage. Anathema and Newt were already running towards them.

“I’ve figured it out! It’s the airbase again. _The place well known. A place where iron birds nest._ I’m sure!”

At the door, the old neighbouring lady who often watched Agnes when the two of them had appointments or went on a date, and the before-mentioned child waved them goodbye. There was no time to lose.

The sky was clouded over the Tadfield Airbase. Gabriel and Beelzebub stood at the centre. All the soldiers had miraculously fell asleep. It seemed to become a habit around here. Behind them was Adam, tied to a chair. Desperately, he tried to liberate himself – without success.

“Let me go!”

His voice sounded unearthly again.

“Shut it, you little brat! Did you really think you could abandon your powers for nine years and they’d stay the zzzame? You’re so weak, a simple protection amulet can hold you in place.”

Laughing, Beelzebub pointed to the amulet, which was also tied on the chair. No wonder he felt so exhausted. Gabriel chuckled as well.

“We will start Armageddon and nothing will stop us.”

_Nothing_ was on their way in the Bentley, consisting of Aziraphale, Crowley, Anathema and Newt. Anathema had filled them in on the recent events in the meantime – all of a sudden, angels had appeared in their living room and had kidnapped Adam without batting an eye. It all had happened in just a few seconds, there was nothing they could have done. They had been surprisingly well organised. Newt shook his head.

“I always thought angels were the good guys.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t really form a reply. After all, he didn’t really have any arguments at the moment to convince them or even himself from the opposite. So Newt continued to speak.

“Why doesn’t Adam just use his powers?”  
“Doesn’t work this way. You have to use them in order to keep them strong,” Crowley replied.  
“Ah, is that why you keep doing bad things?”

Crowley almost crashed the Bentley, while Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile cheekily.

“W-what? No?! I do bad things, because I want to. I AM bad.”

Nobody said a word. But even the Bentley was like _yeah, sure_.

The sound of motorbikes grew louder. Adam’s head turned in the direction of the oncoming sound. Two horsemen – or rather _horsepersons_ – arrived.  
They stopped before the archangel, went from their bikes and looked around sceptically.

“What are we supposed to do here?” WAR hissed, vexed. She sensed that there was something odd here. But Gabriel wasn’t having any of it. He wanted Armageddon, and he wanted it now.

“Just do what you did the last time. Start the end of the world. We even have the antichrist here as well.”

WAR and FAMINE looked around, very irritated.

“This doesn’t work that way. We aren’t even complete. There are only two of us.”

They reached the abandoned airbase within minutes and hustled out of the Bentley. Crowley moved around the car, where Aziraphale just started to walk away, turning to look for the demon and they accidentally bumped into each other.

“S-Sorry!” “Oh my!” they both stuttered, moving apart frantically. _Oh no guys, this really isn’t the right time_ , Anathema thought, rolling her eyes.  
Nevertheless, they split up. Anathema and Newt ran towards the building, Aziraphale took the left side and Crowley the right one.

“Two should absolutely suffice to start the war of wars, shouldn’t you?”  
“This is not how it’s supposed to be!”

FAMINE was utterly pissed. They had summoned them for nothing, as it seemed. Suddenly the clouds grew darker at a very high pace. The ground started to shake. Thunder began to rumble. Satan was to arrive.

The old neighbouring lady and Agnes were playing peacefully in the garden of Jasmine Cottage when the sky became dark all of a sudden.  
“Come, we’ll go inside, sweetheart,” the old lady said gently. But they couldn’t react as fast as the weather changed, as the thunder started to rumble and lightning flashed. Violently, a lightning flash stroke the garden. It stroke the olive tree, which immediately caught fire.  
“Oh my god!”  
The old lady was in panic, but Agnes wasn’t having it.  
“We have to call Mum!”  
“Yes, sure, but first the firefighters.”  
“No, we have to call Mum. NOW! She needs to know. _The holy tree is burning! The beast of the pit burnt the holy tree!_ ”

With an unearthly growl and a lot of smoke, Satan himself arrived from the ground. Anathema and Newt, who were already near enough to see it, held their breath.

“What’s going on here? Why didn’t I know of this?”

Satan sounded angry. Gabriel should feel lucky, that the almighty scarcely approached him personally.

“It is zstarting, oh lord,” Beelzebub declared, hoping this answer would please him.  
“But there are only two horsepersons.”

Gabriel sighed.

“Yeah, but… really. Do we really need _four_ of them?”

Anathema’s phone started vibrating. As the good mother she were, she immediately picked up when she saw the caller’s name.  
“What is it?” She whispered. And went pale when she heard the answer of her daughter.  
“The tree! The olive tree is burning! You have to warn them! _The beast of the pit burnt the holy tree!_ ”

DEATH had already arrived, but preferred to watch the scene from a comfortable distance. He was curious if Satan would approve of this absurd attempt of Armageddon, which clearly didn’t play by any rule of the directives.

“It wasn’t the frankincense. It’s the olive tree! It’s burning now! We have to warn them!”  
Anathema looked around and spotted Crowley near them, lingering behind the weapon’s room. As fast as she could she closed the distance between them.

“Crowley, we had it wrong! It was the false plant! It’s burning now, the holy tree! We have to warn Aziraphale!”  
_For they’ll try to smite the mischievous angel and all hope will fade away with him._

The prophecy still lingered in their heads. Crowley looked around frantically. He couldn’t spot Aziraphale. The angel was near, he could sense him. But he couldn’t see him. However, what he saw, was a dark matter materialising on the field, right before Gabriel, Beelzebub and Satan.  
“NO!”

Satan was irritated.

“There ought to be four horsepersons. Four horsepersons and the antichrist. My son.”  
“Oh, we have the antichrist. He’s here. Have a look.”

Gabriel presented Adam, looking like he had been drugged, still tied to the stool.

“Why is my son chained up? Why is the antichrist, devourer of worlds, tied to a stool?”

Beelzebub slowly became nervous. This didn’t went according to plan. Where were the other horsepersons? As if it had been heard, a dark matter materialised before them. DEATH itself was arriving.

“Oh, good. You took your time,” Gabriel grumbled. But DEATH wasn’t paying attention.  
“THIS IS WRONG.”  
“As I said,” Satan growled.  
Gabriel was pissed. It was always the same – if you want something done, you had to do it yourself.  
“If you don’t start it, I will!”  
With this words, he pulled out a remote control, when suddenly Crowley crashed the party.

“You’re not taking my angel!”

Everyone looked at him in surprise. What was he even talking about? DEATH eyed him with suspicion.  
“YOU ARE A DEMON.”  
“Yes! I’ll admit it! I’m soft, I’m super soft and I don’t care who knows! I would rescue that angel from anything and anywhere, even from the cold hands of death! So you rather don’t mess with me!”  
“RUDE FROM YOU TO ASSUME MY HANDS ARE COLD. BUT OK. IF THAT’S WHAT YOU WANT – YOU’RE COMING WITH ME.”

And with that, DEATH touched him at the shoulder and they disappeared. His sunglasses were all that was left of him.

Aziraphale had been near enough to see that DEATH had appeared on the stage, but too far away to realise what was going on. He did when he heard the demon’s voice shouting all over the place.  
“Crowley!”  
Running wasn’t exactly what he was built for, but he did, as fast as he could. He passed Anathema, who only screamed “The tree is burning!” and he realised. He realised in that moment the true meaning of the prophecy. Of course – the mischievous angel wasn’t Aziraphale, as he had told them all along. It was Crowley. He wasn’t evil, he was still an angel – only fallen. Aziraphale ran, but it was too late. The last thing he saw, was Crowley’s sunglasses left behind on the ground. He should have known. He should have saved him.

Crowley blinked in surprise. He wasn’t 100% sure but it seemed like he was still alive. It was dark around him, a grey-ish dark. DEATH was standing in front of him but not threateningly.

“Where have you taken us?”  
“JUST A PLACE TO TALK. I’M IMPRESSED. YOU’D DO ANYTHING FOR HIM, ALTHOUGH HE’S AN ANGEL AND YOU ARE A DEMON. IS THAT CORRECT?”  
Crowley didn’t even need a second to think about that.  
“Yes.”  
“AND VICE VERSA? WOULD THE ANGEL DO THE SAME FOR YOU?”

Some hissing snake sounds came from Crowley’s overwhelmed mouth. He thought about it for an instant. Their relationship had been complicated right from the start, with being hereditary enemies and so on. A lot had changed since then – but nevertheless, he had no idea what was on the angel’s mind about it. Though – he did care for Crowley. He watched out for him. It didn’t matter what exactly it really was. He wouldn’t let him fall. Again.

“Guess yes. Hope so.”  
“THE WORLD DEPENDS ON THIS ANSWER.”

Phew. Crowley thought back. The angel giving him the holy water in the Bentley. Fighting the first apocalypse. Going to hell in disguise. Following him to Paris. Screaming NO in the face of the archangel Michael and laying his spirit over him to protect him. Holding him until he felt ok again. It wasn’t easy… but he’d simply have to trust him.

“Yes. He’d wiggle through life with me.”  
“OK… WHATEVER.”

“I never really cared that he was a demon!”  
Aziraphale sobbed, clinging to the sunglasses. He didn’t even notice Gabriel, Beelzebub, Adam, Satan and the two horsepersons still standing next to him. Anathema and Newt came to his side.  
Had he ever told him? That he was his best friend in the world, _meant_ the world to him? That he deeply admired him, cared for him?  
Gabriel tried to take their attention back to _fucking_ Armageddon.

“As I said – I’ll just start it right now. When I touch this button-“  
But he was interrupted again, when a dark matter began to form itself before them. DEATH and Crowley materialised. The demon wasn’t even standing properly when Aziraphale threw his arms around him, not caring the slightest about DEATH appearing next to them.  
“Crowley! I thought you were dead!”  
“S’alright, angel! Still in one piece,” the demon shushed him. The war – or better the war about war – wasn’t over yet.

“STOP ARMAGEDDON. THERE IS NO NEED FOR IT. HEAVEN AND HELL CAN WORK TOGETHER AND I WILL PROVE IT.”

Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand firmly, like saying _Don’t let me down on this._  
The angel squeezed it reassuringly. _I never would._

“How is this angel still alive?!”  
Gabriel was so outrageously pissed.  
“I don’t need your permission! Armageddon is to come. It IS the Great Plan!” He nodded to Beelzebub and they both concentrated. From everywhere, angels and demons started to arrive. Two armies gathered on the Tadfield Airbase. Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other. Chances weren’t that promising. Not knowing if they would survive this, the angel said nervously:

“At least we know now that nothing explodes when we kiss.”  
Hesitantly, he added:  
“And I didn’t fall.”  
Crowley look at him in complete and utter shock. Since his sunglasses had fallen off, the angel could look directly in his golden eyes.  
“I’d never risk you to fall.”  
His voice was dead serious and left no doubt about his wholeheartedness. All of his feelings were clearly displayed in his eyes. If one could have ever in this world believed in something, it would have been his eyes. Overwhelmed by emotions, Aziraphale cupped the demon’s head in his hands and kissed him passionately. 

Suddenly, from the other end of the airbase you could hear a “Fuck it!” Another demon ran across the field, embracing a certain angel and started snogging. In surprise, the celestial duo watched more and more angels and demons pairing up, taking each other’s hands to show solidarity. There was no need to fight. They could work together.

Gabriel knew when a match had been lost. In utter disgust he laid his eyes on Aziraphale.  
“This isn’t over yet,” he growled and vanished into thin air, together with a handful of other angels. Beelzebub did the same after a scornful look at Crowley.

Left behind were two horsepersons, a tied up antichrist, Satan, DEATH, a whole airbase full of angels and demons, a witch and a more than ordinary human.

“If I’m allowed to ask… what now?”

Aziraphale had directed the question to the highest authority present at the moment. DEATH smiled. Crowley sighed. There would be a great deal of work waiting for them.

From this day on, Heaven and Hell would work together. Angels and demons would share after-work drinks, sitting together after a hard day of work, chatting and ranting about bureaucratic orders from head office and the latest events on Earth, sometimes tempting and guiding the same person. It would be the good ol’ way – an angel on the right shoulder, a demon on the left one. Humanity was given a real choice once again.

“Do you think it will work out fine?  
The angel looked worried. Crowley took his hand.  
“Of course, angel. Of course it will.”


	6. Epilogue

Crowley and Azirapahle walked out of their new office building. Very content. Their new leaders had been elected in their new embassy on Earth.  
The angel linked arms with his demon.

“In the end, it all worked out for the best now, didn’t it?” he mused.  
“Guess so, angel.”

They strolled to St. James Park, their favourite place of all times, when Azirapahle spotted an extraordinary big duck, which he wanted to point out to Crowley.

“Look, my love, a-“  
Crowley almost tripped over his feet.  
“What? Oh, yes. I forgot. I never told you.”

The angel took both hands of his extremely flustered demon.  
“Anthony J. Crowley. I admire you. I deeply care for you. And I am madly in love with you.”  
It needed all of Crowley’s concentration to not turn into a snake. So he just stared and stuttered: “Thanks.”  
And shied away immediately. Oh my, what an embarrassment. But the angel just giggled, snudged him and said: “It’s ok, dear.”  
He linked arms again and they continued their stroll.  
And on the way back, he could have sworn his demon whispered _Love you too, angel_.

He didn’t need to say it anyway. Crowley’s actions spoke louder than he could ever describe in words (not like that damn sophisticated angel).  
He literally went through DEATH for Aziraphale – well, more exactly with DEATH, but that doesn’t make any difference (except for DEATH).  
If that wasn’t a true beacon of love nothing ever was, beginning with miracling a play ridiculously famous, tip-toeing through a church and ending with throwing your life, your soul and all you ever had directly in the face of mortal danger.  
In the end, the angel realised, this peculiar feeling he experienced from Crowley had never been anything demonic or unknown…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it - thanks for reading my fanfic. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I loved to write it.  
> If you liked it - please let me know. :)  
> Also I'm a big reader myself, so if you have any recos, I'd be delighted to hear it - thanks in advance! :)


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